


Better

by AuroraExecution



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 20:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraExecution/pseuds/AuroraExecution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the morning of Grantaire's wedding, Enjolras comes to see him.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>AU, in which the barricade succeeded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in May 2012, at the height of my obsession with David Thaxton's Enjolras. 
> 
> It may or may not have been influenced by Hadley Fraser's version of Scott Alan's "Again", after having heard him sing Grantaire in the 25th Anniversary concert.

It was the very first time he had ever looked respectable, at least within memory, in his new waistcoat and a clean shirt.  He had even shaved for the day, and made some attempt to clean and groom his hair.  Courfeyrac teased that the idea of settling down was already causing Grantaire to become a changed man.  Grantaire wore a pasted-on smile and tried to make it look natural rather than strained. 

The wedding was to be sparse and affordable, a small affair in a little church followed by dinner with those in attendance—a handful of family and friends for the bride, and Les Amis for the groom.  Grantaire and Marie-Victoire were not in love and both knew this, but they were comfortable enough together. 

Grantaire took one last look at himself in the mirror, tried not to wince at the unfamiliar face looking back, and turned to go.  To his surprise, he found Enjolras blocking the door. 

“Enjolras.” 

“Grantaire.” 

“Why are you here?” 

Enjolras smiled hesitantly.  “I wanted to see you.  To wish you well.”  Grantaire simply gave him a weary look.  “I really am very pleased for you,” continued Enjolras, voice uncommonly soft. 

For a moment, both of them paused, unsure of what to say.  A strange and long-forgotten feeling—longing, perhaps—resurfaced painfully in Grantaire’s chest. 

“Go away with me,” he finally blurted. 

There was an instant where Enjolras’s expression fell to pieces, but he immediately rebuilt himself, responding: “No.” 

“You know that I would go if only you asked.” 

“But you must take responsibility now.  You and I no longer fit together.” 

Grantaire closed his eyes.  He could still recall the days when they were together, and the intensity between them then.  He thought of the arguments, the consequential coldness, and the mornings they awoke in each other’s arms.  They had been all things wonderful and terrible. 

“Even were we to go now, we would be awful together,” added Enjolras in the meantime. 

“But we would be happy,” retorted Grantaire immediately. 

“But we would not be content.”  The gentleness in Enjolras’s words was somehow deafening. 

“I would rather be with you,” Grantaire replied stubbornly because it was true, despite the fact that Enjolras was not wrong and they would argue and make each other miserable as much as they made each other happy. 

“I know,” said Enjolras, and touched Grantaire’s cheek. 

Regardless of the time that had passed since they had been together, Grantaire had not forgotten how to read Enjolras’s silences.  It was the eyes that gave it away, every time, and this time there was a deep sadness there.  Enjolras wanted many things, but when they were linked to Grantaire he would not say them. 

“We were never really right together, were we?” Enjolras asked, and his smile was not quite whole. 

“I love you,” Grantaire replied, simply. 

“You have a bride.” 

“There was only ever you.” 

And, of course, Enjolras had been the only person who was ever quite capable of loving Grantaire, despite his ugliness and his vices.  It was a glimmer of faith that Grantaire had left, and that was alight only for Enjolras, who saw that point of blinding light and loved it. 

Then there were the quarrels, and the revolution came, and the divide between scorn and hopelessness became too great to bear.  They parted ways.  Enjolras devoted himself solely to his work, a priest to the new republic, known by the people to be just as celibate as St. Just, if not as harsh.  Grantaire found himself some work, waited, eventually finding a half-decent girl looking for a half-decent husband who was convenient.  Les Amis were all invited to Grantaire’s wedding, and though he hesitated, the desire to see Enjolras again won out over any other arguments he had. 

Enjolras’s voice was not quite still: “You are very dear to me…”

“Enjolras—” Grantaire choked out. 

“…but this is for the best.” 

Then it was quiet for a very long time as they held each other tightly, unwilling to be parted again. 

In the end, it was Grantaire who stepped back.  “You think it is better if I go ahead with this,” he said, gesturing at himself. 

“Yes.”  Enjolras’s face was open now, a canvas for the raw emotions there. 

“If you should ever want me to go with you, all you need do is ask.  You know that?” 

“Yes.” 

Grantaire leant over and kissed Enjolras’s forehead.  Enjolras closed his eyes, but there was the slightest trembling in his hands. 

“Then I shall do as you say, so long as you promise me you will remember.” 

“What you’ve said?”

“That I love you.” 

A soft smile broke onto Enjolras’s lips and bloomed tenderly in his eyes. 

“That, I could never forget.” 

“Were you happy, despite it all?” 

“I was.” 

The bell sounded outside. 

“For you, then,” said Grantaire, moving to the doorway.  “But if you should need me…” 

“Go on,” replied Enjolras.  “This is the best choice.” 

“Until the very end, Enjolras,” Grantaire murmured, “I am yours.” 

He slipped away then.  Enjolras stared in the direction he had gone long after Grantaire had already hurried out of sight. 


End file.
